Bound in Stone 3

by K. M. Frontain

  “Marun!” he called softly. “Marun? Are you there?”

  “Ufrid?” It was Eshaia’s voice. “Ufrid! You haven’t spoken in five days!”

  “I had nothing to say. Get Marun! I don’t want you.”

  She laughed. Her responding words were bitter. “Of course. You never did. Just the throne. Well, take it Ufrid! Take it if you can! I don’t care!”

  “Bitch! Just get Marun! I have no time for your games!” He risked looking into the mirror. She was clear, torchlight illuminating her face. She seemed thinner, paler. Her eyes were huge in her face. They stared toward him intently.

  “Why can’t I see you?” she demanded.

  “Because I’m in the dark! Get Marun!” he hissed again. The image flashed across the tower; then the sorcerer stared out at him.

  “What do you want?” the Shadow Master said curtly.

  “To keep our agreement,” Ufrid whispered.

  The sorcerer’s expression remained impenetrable, but his words were ripe with suspicion. “You change your mind suddenly after days without communicating.”

  “I tried to make my peace with my brother,” Ufrid said, “but he’s still a cold bastard. I hate him!”

  “Well, let that comfort you as I crush you both.” The mirror lowered.

  “He will hold Forge Mount from you!” Ufrid said hastily.

  The sorcerer’s image returned. “He will not keep it long,” Marun retorted.

  “He has the means to destroy the temple. Swear your bargain with me again or I say no more.”

  Marun scowled. “You miserable coward. Tell me what you know. You will have your crown. I swear it.”

  Ufrid smiled in the darkness. Good. The Shadow Master was renowned for keeping all his bargains.

  “He has monks working closely with witches. One pair can blow boulders into the air. Your temple will be destroyed!” Ufrid watched his face stiffen with anger.

  “Witches and monks?”

  “Your boy’s idea,” Ufrid jeered. “What a brilliant little tease he is.”

  The sorcerer’s dark eyes grew frigid with repressed wrath. “Be careful, Ufrid. I may change my mind.

  “You made the oath!”

  “You can have your crown crippled and unmanned. Be wary!”

  Ufrid’s gut chilled with dread. “I apologise,” he said hastily.

  “Tell me more of this pairing between witches and monks?” the sorcerer demanded. “Be clear about it.”

  Ufrid told him all of it, about the pairings, the massive explosions, the wide-spreading curses that would afflict a multitude of victims. He also disclosed the dragon watch. He conveyed it all. And Marun stared out into the darkness from where Ufrid’s voice filtered and he grew very still. King Ugoth had an army that could well oppose his own and defeat it. And all of Kehfrey’s doing.

  Damn him!

  “You have chosen your side well,” Marun said to the prince afterward. “What of his strategy? What will your brother do?”

  “He will hold Forge Mount from you. The vanguard is already there, preparing the fortifications. The Cho Korth cavalry will arrive in days after we do. Ugoth may send me with my portion of the army to wait in Forge Canyon once we reach the River Lutte.”

  “For what reason?”

  “To flank you once your army approaches,” the prince answered.

  “You will have to delay. Won’t you, King Ufrid?”

  “Yes,” Ufrid answered. “I will have to delay. It will be difficult, however. What excuse can I use?”

  “Come up with one!”

  “Come up with one for me! A natural disaster! A flood! A flood delayed the Cho Korth. I can’t just tell my captains to stall once the messenger arrives ordering us to flank you.”

  Ufrid glared at the mirror. He’d forgotten Marun couldn’t see him, which was probably just as well. The Shadow Master wasn’t inclined to take any royal backlash just then. He was worried, very worried, but the apprehension didn’t show on his face.

  “I will think on a solution,” Marun uttered stiffly. “You will contact me again tomorrow.”

  The image became a stone tower and Eshaia’s face again. “You liar!” she hissed. “You’re running scared! Aren’t you, Ufrid? Something happened to make you change your mind. I’m going to call the sorcerer back through the mirror.”

  “Stupid bitch!”

  He shoved his mirror into the saddlebag, cutting her off. He scanned the darkness anxiously. His men were shadows many yards far off, their silhouettes facing toward him. Ufrid listened intently. They were speaking together of normal things, whores, gambling, the war. They had heard nothing.

  He kicked his mount toward them. Without comment, they surrounded him and escorted him to his tent. He walked inside, his saddlebag in his hand. As he set it down near his bed, his squire entered. “A bath,” Ufrid ordered. “And a whore.”

  “Yes, Highness,” the man said dutifully. “Uh … male or female?”

  “Both! Get me a man who likes to do both.”

  Ufrid’s squire flushed and left the tent. Ufrid heard him whispering to the guards outside. “He wants to do both at once tonight. Gods! I feel like such a fool, going out asking these things.” The squire stomped away.

  Ufrid’s captain laughed. “He’s just copying his brother again. That monk of Ugoth’s did a woman with him in the witches’ camp.”

  “We know that.”

  “I’d bend for King Ugoth,” another said.

  “Shut up, Timin!” said the captain. “Shut up or bend for me!” They all laughed, but the humour died quickly.

  “It’s too bad,” one said.

  “Yes,” the captain agreed. “Brother Herfod was a decent fellow, even if he was half roach. Have you caught sight of the king? I think he’s gone mad; only he’s saving it in for Marun.”

  His cohorts agreed with him, after which they were silent.

  Ufrid sat in his chair and glared at the closed entrance. “Copying Ugoth!” he whispered. “Bend for Ugoth!”

  The day he was king, he was going to hang his own guards. He would keep no man who was not loyal to him alone. And if any of them mentioned bending for Ugoth again, he was going to rip out their guts before he hung them. Viciously, he smiled. He might even bend some of them himself first.

  ***

  Marun stood before the table in his tent and stared at his unopened books. He was furious. He was frantic.

  “Monks and witches!” he whispered. Had there ever been such a union before? He didn’t think so. What could he do to beat this?

  There would be wards. These he had overcome in the past. But the combined strength of chants and curses? This he had never encountered. He must defend his army from this new threat and he was uncertain that he could.

  His hands crept into his hair. He pulled feverishly, almost tugging some out. “Kehfrey!” he shouted. “Why? Why?”

  He whirled and darted for the trunk. The black ward on it flashed toward him. He willed it down. He threw the lid open and pulled the stone out. Cradling it, he sobbed once.

  “Kehfrey!” he whispered. As usual his plea gave him nothing but resolute obscurity.

  His face lifted. Determination lit over it. “I will not let you destroy us!”

  He grabbed chalk from the chest and paced away from it. He shoved the table aside, pulled the covered mirror further to the canvas wall, knelt in the centre of the space he had created and began to mark the canvas tarp covering the floor. The circle didn’t need to be large this time. There was only him, after all.

  “It’s easy,” he said to the second presence in the stone. “The way was already prepared once, very long ago. My first master was brilliant.” He smiled softly. He’d loved his first master. Marun Aris had been a gentle, humorous man. “Like you,” he said. “Like you, Kehfrey. He was sweet! He was noble! Until they took me away. I should have told you about him.”

  He crept along until the chalk marks met. Rising, he stared down in satisfaction, now w
ithin a circle of symbols, ancient and powerful. He began the spell. The moment he uttered the last word, he was somewhere else.

  A cave of blackness; Marun called green fire above his palm, but the glow illuminated the vast cavern faintly. Stalagmites marched away from him. Stalactites threatened above. The milk of stone spread in waves along the floor, a surface washed by ages of limestone drip.

  He walked forward. There were ruins in the cavern, ancient disasters of massive proportion, stalactites that had bitten the floor and scattered chunks of themselves far and wide. Most had become the foundation of grotesque stalagmites, with knobs and noses and warped faces that stared as he passed.

  The sound of dripping filtered through the frigid air. A lake of icy water rested within the immense subterranean space. Marun approached the bank and stared, awed just as he had been the first time he had seen it. The expanse was a surreal blackness broken by corpse-like pillars, the dripping an endless asynchronous music, and the ripples an eerie dance playing on the opaque surface. There was a compelling ambience to the lake, a sense of something otherworldly.

  Marun stepped into it. The chill attacked his feet, colder than his shadows, alien, intrusive. He gritted his teeth against the agony, ignored the sudden dizziness that made him feel faint and want to retch. The ripples of his movement spread away, shimmering green and black, rolling onward into the darkness. Clutching the stone more tightly in his hands, he lifted it to his lips and kissed it.

  “I love you,” he whispered. “I always will. No matter what befalls us.”

  He lifted the rock behind him. With all his might, he threw it far out over the lake. It flew into the darkness. He heard the noise of its entry and waited. The ripples of farewell marched toward him from the shadows. The first of them caressed his shins. He watched until the last had dashed on the limestone bank behind him. His feet numb, he stepped out of the lake and walked back to his point of entry. His eyes were dull with melancholy as he peered down at the chalk marks his first master had created so many years ago.

  “You were correct,” he said down to them. “Never give her all she wants.”

  He stepped into the circle and disappeared. The green light remained behind for an instant, a feeble visitor in an unwelcoming hall. It flickered out and the darkness swelled into the cavern. Water dripped, echoing for no one to hear, but faintly, ever so faintly, far across the spine of mountains dividing the continent, Tehlm Sevet thought he could.

  ***

  Ufrid contacted the Shadow Master again in the morning. He used the excuse of wanting a trip into the bushes. His men knew he hated using the latrine pits. He detested the stench. He also detested being listened to while he did his business. It was therefore rather easy to send them off once they were satisfied that nothing hid in the chosen shelter. Ufrid squatted and pulled the mirror from his cloak.

  Marun waited for him. He was brusque. “Take this!”

  Ufrid grabbed a rolled parchment that shot out of the mirror toward him. He almost threw it back in. He was afraid of what it might do to him.

  “Don’t be a fool,” the Shadow Master said, catching the fear on the prince’s face. “This is the delay you asked for.”

  “What will it do?”

  “A flood. Do not open it until you need it. Make sure you are in front of water. Drop it in and get away quickly. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “You will contact Eshaia if Ugoth’s plans change or if anything untoward happens.”

  The mirror flashed down. Thinking it was over, Ufrid began to lower his.

  “Ufrid!” the sorcerer called.

  Ufrid raised the mirror hastily. The sorcerer stared out at him again. “Yes?”

  “Where are you exactly?”

  “In the Ester Pass.”

  “The Ester Pass,” Marun repeated. “Have you noticed anything strange in the pass?”

  “No. Nothing.”

  Marun scowled; then the scene changed. Eshaia looked out at Ufrid.

  “Liar!” she hissed. “Liar! Tell me what happened. I will tell him you lie if not. He’ll believe me. Not you.”

  “Bitch! Leave this war to men!”

  “I won’t! Do not think to pre-empt my place, Ufrid. Am I your ally or not? If you think to cross me, my first business as a widow will be to point my finger at you. Now tell me what is happening between Ugoth and that monk.”

  Damn her! “Is he gone?”

  “Who?”

  “Marun, you nit!”

  “Don’t call me a nit! Yes. He’s gone.”

  “The monk was taken,” Ufrid told her. “Harpies got him. Ugoth has almost gone mad from it.”

  The smile she gave him was exultant. Ufrid heard a man’s voice speak.

  “I have a gift for you, Eshaia. You can keep him all day and night this time.”

  It was Marun’s voice. Ufrid’s guts clenched with alarm. Eshaia’s smile turned hot with want.

  “Oh!” she cried. She looked at Ufrid passionately. “Ufrid, my love! He treats me just like a whore!”

  She laughed at his shocked expression. The image spun. An ugly face sneered out at him. A tongue poked out of the mirror and waggled insultingly on his side. Ufrid almost dropped the twin. He heard Eshaia calling for whoever it was to fill her, fill her now. The tongue retreated. The image flashed down to the stone floor and went blank. Ufrid stared at his own astounded face.

  “Gods!” he whispered. “Gods!” What was happening in Durgven? What was Eshaia doing? “Gods!”

  Marun knew! He knew the monk was taken! Ufrid stared at the paper in his palm. His hand shook with terror. He threw the paper on the earth and leapt up.

  “Are you done, then?” his captain called.

  Ufrid didn’t answer. He stared down at the tied scroll. Nothing happened. It seemed innocent enough.

  “Highness?”

  Ufrid heard his guard thumping up. Ufrid reached down, snatched the paper up and shoved it and the mirror in his cloak pocket.

  “Highness! Is all well?” his captain demanded.

  Ufrid stepped out of the bushes toward him. “Fine. It’s just more complicated than I thought.”

  “Highness?”

  “Nothing!” Ufrid snapped. “Just thinking.”

  “Yes, well, what else can one do when one shits?” the soldier joked.

  Ufrid smiled weakly and strode to his waiting mount. The army was about to move again. Ugoth was already astride and staring in his direction. Ufrid kicked his horse toward him.

  “Are you not well?” his brother said. “You spent enough time in there.”

  “I had some difficulty,” Ufrid replied, an understatement of magnitudes. “Just call the march. I could have caught up, you know.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind,” his brother retorted.

  The king nodded at his own captain. The command was relayed, and the army trundled into motion. Ufrid settled his steed alongside Ugoth’s and looked up at the jagged cliffs distractedly.

  “Don’t bother!” Ugoth said. “They already took what was wanted.”

  Ufrid eyed him narrowly. His brother was cold, colder than he’d ever been. His resolve was a chain binding his anger, heavy and strong. Nothing existed beneath that resolve but raw emotion.

  Ufrid turned his gaze away. He didn’t want his brother’s inhuman regard to fix on him. Ufrid was afraid of him. His brother was a predator with human skin. Ufrid knew it. He understood it. Only another man of his lineage could. They were, since the beginning of their line, predators in human shape, but Ugoth seemed to have inherited the beast in a greater proportion than him. Ugoth was a monster that waited to be unleashed, and there was no Herfod around to calm the monster any longer. Once the predator in Ugoth won free, Ufrid knew it would never go back into hiding again.

  Ugoth had to die. There was no other way. Ufrid couldn’t turn back on his steps. Eshaia would betray him to her husband as quickly as she had to Marun. There were no paths left to him but the one upo
n which he must now march to the end.

  Ugoth spoke and jerked Ufrid out of his worried thoughts. “I’ve decided that you will go with your legion once we reach River Lutte,” he said. “Travel along that pass until just before you enter Forge Canyon. Keep out of sight and make no fires.”

  “I know what to do,” Ufrid said without looking. He knew how to fight. He’d done his share of campaigning. His brother had no right to be concerned about his capabilities. “I’ll leave a relay of messengers as agreed.”

  “Fine,” Ugoth acknowledged.

  “What about witches, then? How many are you assigning to me?”

  “None,” Ugoth said flatly.

  “None? Why not?”

  “Because I can’t trust you with them,” Ugoth responded frankly.

  “You hypocritical bastard!” Ufrid said. “I wasn’t filling the holes of one with your monk!”

  Ugoth’s gauntleted hand lashed out and knocked Ufrid sideways. Ufrid caught himself before he fell from his stallion. The men around them were suddenly silent and nervous.

  Ufrid touched his lips and pulled away his fingers. There was blood on them. He glared at Ugoth. “Don’t like the truth, Ugoth?” he said.

  “Leave my personal business out of this,” Ugoth directed bitterly. “You can’t be trusted with a witch. With you, there’s no love involved. Only lust.”

  Ufrid dared to sneer at him. “You expect me to believe what I saw wasn’t lust?”

  Ugoth turned away. “Believe what you like. You aren’t having witches.”

  “What about monks?”

  “Take the Heavenly Lighters. They will serve you well enough.”

  “They can’t fight! All they do is pontificate!”

  “So protect them! They can still chant all the same prayers. They can still cast cleansings and healings. Take them! Your job isn’t to hold Forge Mount. It is to harry Marun from behind. Is that clear?” Ugoth stared ice at his brother.

  Ufrid returned the glare, but nodded. Ugoth looked away again. Ufrid smiled bleakly. Another step down the irresistible, perilous path.